Tuesday, September 14, 2010

Exposition

I used to watch, without wavering week-after-week, the trials and tribulations of the tumultuous Star Ship Enterprise (NCC-1701D...not the original); in other words, I ogled actors whose names slide off the slick, celebrity-stricken ears of most Americans: Wil Wheaton, Patrick Stewart, Brent Spiner, Marina Siritis. And as I tuned-in, these characters, caught in catastrophe-upon-catastrophe, played out their lives for years. I came to them for solace. I came to know them. And they were, of course, eventually cancelled.

I learned something from them as I learned my craft from mymentors: each episode is new, but one's arc is well-defined. And I have been through many arcs, my faithful Furious. Gaylen taught me best to recognize them, although Richard had put me through them once already unwittingly. In the end, I have learned to recognize the draconian dramas, the faux-ferocities, and un-needed necessities of annihilation of both STNG and Burnout. This is not a game, and this is not an experiment. Take heed, all those who embark on such Herculean tasks.

Burnout

Stage I: This is the longest, most protracted stage in which perseverance is little more than parlance. You can last here longest. Each subsequent stage is a half-life with perils a-plenty, but this is the place in which one can "dig-in" and diligently execute one's duties. Your focus will be sharp, unwavering, and formidable. Days turn into nights and into days, but you will remain stalwart in your stewardship. This is Zen. This is the zenith of your work. Enjoy it. You'll need it later.

At the end of Stage I, you'll feel confident and capable, coherent and still compassionate. You'll have perspective and pay-off, the best combination of time and effort. Here, one should rest. Beyond this point, one's ability to be stable and sane will be called into question. This is a bold statement, but one I intend to describe in the most-sincere of terms. If you pass Stage I, you will enter the next stage.

Stage II: Unless you are Sisphus, this stage is the hardest; it is the least dangerous but most selfishly-beneficial. In "Stage II", you are the most important thing that is happening. Not just at work, but in your sphere of influence at large. You're the best coder, the best designer, the best lover, the best partner, the best friend. You're wrong, of course. No, really. You are wrong. But you won't know that until "Stage III". You can accomplish incredible things. You think across functional lines, and reason, at one moment, in the technical world, and then in the business world without the (perceived, self- or otherwise) "lag" of context-switching. You see problems without time. You see solutions without resource-constraint. And you begin the process of seeing possibilities that have no connection to reality.

And you begin to learn your limitations. For many, this process is sped-up through exams in college and university. Coffee (or the fashionable drug of the day) becomes one's ally. And we are told that each high has its low; each fantasy has its reality. And Stage II begins to become a reality.

Until Stage III, you can burn the candle at both ends, in the middle, and then just light the fucker with a blowtorch because you're bored and you're so much better than those around you. (Those who know The Fury best can recognize this behaviour, and those with whom He has discussed Burn Out know the effects.) The problem is not Stage II's immediate effects. The problem lies between Stage II and Stage III.

At the end of Stage II, you're left with a sense of hard-work and capability. It's a very real sensation, and it can be backed-up with months (or years) of work. But I caution you, my Furious, against the causality that is Stage III. Every sense of well-being will emigrate, and every sense of self-sufficiency will be sent a-sunder.

Stage III: You are at peace. You know your place. You are competent beyond comprehension, even your own. Words flow from your mouth like a hot well in Spring. And you are, in many ways, lost. (Now this is my personal experience. And The Fury has been wrong, but perhaps you have experienced this before.)

Your work is easy, and those around you seem incompetent. Your friends become bland and unintelligent. Your purpose is clear but misunderstood. But still you work. And for "the good" of . You can see the path laid before you, and it is fraught with error. You are the cure for such a place, but you are only one person. You can only do so much. And you put in more time. And more. And more.

The end of this stage is change.

And rarely for the better, my Furious. This stage yields nothing but experience. The experience will only show its fruits when one has recovered to Stage I or Stage II. You are blind from work and you will not see progress or hope. "It is forsake in these Lands," to quote the LOTR trilogy.

Sunday, May 16, 2010

I suppose I'm a preposterously-prolific peddler of musicality this evening. This one just happened by accident, truly. I had lit my celebratory cigarette, smoked for a second, and started to pay the (panned-right) guitar line. Lo and behold, the left side appeared, and lyrics spilled out like so many sequins.

I hope you can dig it. If you say I sound like Iron & Wine-meets-Postal Service-meets-James Taylor, I'll take it all in stride.

Here's another much-need, late-night diddy for my faithful Furious. It's inspired by a song I did a few years back that I was never really happy with. I heard this in my head and just the line 'I'm not the only one...' and voila! 4 hours later, this little package arrived by digital stork. Usual suspects here: keys played on my iPad, tracks in Garageband (using the built-in mic, which is incredible), a few effects, NO pitch correction and you can tell :)

Tuesday, May 11, 2010

In talking with the gents tonight after work, I realized there is NO reason NOT to post a creative work born quickly. This is a work in progress, people. And it's completely recorded, mixed, and mastered on the iPad using the built-in microphone.

Sunday, May 9, 2010

Many moons have passed, many suns have shone, but still the Fury lives on. My last post, though laden with lauds and latent understanding (let alone a myriad of lonely and mawkish murmurings), was heavy for this beleaguered but burgeoning blog. This will not follow suit nor suit those stuck in 'samey', saccharine situations.

I post instead a Furious Verse...some random poem from deep within. But first, a story:

Late in 2004, I posited (amongst many) that our droll, daily lives might yield an Acqua Santa sought by so many marketers. Lo and behold: Facebook v Google and FourSquare v GoWalla. Now, these nepotistic (check their heritages), neophytes in New Media might seem cutting-edge, but we've long-laboured to share our (pardon me) 'private pieces' with those for whom we care most. We now have the wherewithal and means to post our private lives and share special moments with our sacrosanct circles. But at what cost?

Fortunately, Facebook found a 'solution' to the problem: forego privacy for publicity, and create a semantic surplus of seemingly 'free' information to advertisers. That basically sums up F8's outcome. Granted, I'm a cynic and I've stood by social networking since the early days of BBS, then Yahoo!, then MySpace, then .

This is NEWS. Facebook has created the incentive and means by which all information on the web is searchable, indexed, and linked to one's account. Your search results for a dynamite dildo could be influenced by a friend's un-redacted diatribe. Do you really want to know?

I digress. I need to share a short (I promise) bit of poetry started earlier today.